


An Act of Loyalty

by sterlingstars



Category: Fire Emblem: Soen no Kiseki/Akatsuki no Megami | Fire Emblem Path of Radiance/Radiant Dawn
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Established Relationship, M/M, Post Game, Post-Radiant Dawn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-16 16:14:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10574898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sterlingstars/pseuds/sterlingstars
Summary: Soren is a prince.The thought is still strange- they’ve been here for many months, now, but Ike reckons it will take a lifetime to get used to it. Even stranger is that it almost suits the mage, even though he doesn’t particularly like it. But he wears the elegance well, and he’s always held an air of command about himself that is more than suited to someone who’s royalty. Ike knows his tells, and he knows how often Soren grows frustrated or angry, tired and confused, but no one else can break through his mask, not like Ike can. And he will never let them; which makes Ike the ideal person to be the new prince’s right hand man.A tactician turned prince, and the man who has always been beside him. In a show of loyalty to Soren and a bid to prove his fears unfounded, Ike uses a more unconventional method to show him his commitment.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hello pals, I'm back at it again writing for a ship whose games I haven't finished *wheezes*
> 
> This was a fun little au that was inspired by [this wicked ass fanart](http://gahraazel.tumblr.com/post/147509060720)t, please enjoy

Admittedly, this hurts a little, and about halfway through, Ike begins to wonder if this was a stupid idea. There’s a little blood in his eyes, and it’s taking all of his effort not to furrow his brow as he tries to accomplish the task, staring at his forehead in the mirror with intensity. The tang of his blood in the air is subtle, but he can smell it, considering it’s running right down his face. But he’s almost finished, so he takes a deep breath and gets it done, the knife steady in his hand. 

When he’s finished, he’s gentle cleaning the wound. It stings, and he grits his teeth, but he’s still thorough, because for all of this, he doesn’t want Soren to kill him over getting an infection. He’s mindful like that, caring about things like infections and little wounds, almost like a pestering father, though Ike would shudder to consider him fatherly in any manner. No, his concern stems from something else, and the thought is much more pleasant and sends a rush of warmth through Ike’s stomach, his chest fluttering slightly. 

He knows the wound will be ugly while it heals. It will scab and look rather wretched for a while, but it’s worth the pain and unattractive healing process. Ike has dealt with much uglier wounds, anyway, so really, this is nothing. He’s never been a vain man, anyway. It doesn’t really matter to him if it doesn’t look nice while it’s healing. He’s not doing this for himself anyway, so his own comfort isn’t even the point. He touches the fresh wound gingerly with his finger, and it stings, but it looks good, in its own strange, morbid way. The crimson of the fresh cuts that haven’t quite stopped bleeding offers a stark contrast against the comparable paleness of his skin, and it looks a little aesthetically pleasing, strangely enough. He’s sure Soren might not see it that way, but for now at the very least, he can appreciate it, however strange that may be. 

It takes a little while longer than he anticipated for the bleeding to stop, and he’s grateful everyone has retired for the night and no one will have use of him. He has until the morning to tend to it, and then he will rise with Soren, and he’ll see what he’s done. Maybe he should feel a little foolish, for such a dramatic statement, but something about it just feels right to Ike, which is a welcome change in this foreign environment. 

Soren is a prince. 

The thought is still strange- they’ve been here for many months, now, but Ike reckons it will take a lifetime to get used to it. Even stranger is that it almost suits the mage, even though he doesn’t particularly like it. But he wears the elegance well, and he’s always held an air of command about himself that is more than suited to someone who’s royalty. Ike knows his tells, and he knows how often Soren grows frustrated or angry, tired and confused, but no one else can break through his mask, not like Ike can. And he will never let them; which makes Ike the ideal person to be the new prince’s right hand man. His confidante, his advisor, his bodyguard. The traditional word for it, perhaps, is retainer, but even Ike knows such a simple word doesn’t suit them at all. Soren once playfully used the word consort, as they lay tangled and breathless in his bed, and Ike thinks it a touch sensual, a little dangerous. He likes it, though he doesn’t think that’s quite it, either.

A simple way of putting it, perhaps, but Ike has always thought of them as partners. As much as Soren relies upon Ike, he perhaps relies on the mage tenfold. They have always taken care of each other, in whatever they needed, and to Ike, that means they’re partners. Soren always smiles when he says this to him, and that’s how he knows it is right.

Partners, he thinks as he touches the mark he’s put on his forehead. Partners, indeed. He’s not sure when he started living for Soren as much as, if not more than, himself, but this is rather solid, physical proof of where he has chosen to place his purpose, and his life. If no one believed him before, this would surely settle the score. Strangely enough, however, Ike is sure that the only person who really needs convincing is Soren himself.

His father once told him, when he was young, that love would make you do foolish things. He never really understood that when he was a child, but he’s learned along the way just what his father meant by that. Love is a very strange thing- a powerful one, a thing that has taken Ike in its iron grip and refused to let go, though he’s let himself be pulled along wherever it wants to take him. That’s how he ended up here, after all, sitting in a dim bedchamber in the middle of the night, blood on his fingers and one man’s name on his mind, as he carefully dresses his wound. He finds that he can’t mind it. There is nowhere else he would rather be. If Soren wanted to live the rest of his days in some great forest, living off the land and sleeping in the grass. Ike would gladly follow. It matters not where they are, or even how they get there- if they end up together, Ike is glad to go, glad to endure whatever tests may be thrown at him before they reach their destination. 

The next morning, his forehead is very tender, as expected. He inspects the cuts in the mirror, draws careful fingers over the tender, vulnerable flesh, and winces a little. It does, as he predicted, already look rather garish, and he knows it will only look worse before it looks better. He secures his headband around his forehead, and nods to himself. It covers the markings perfectly, and though the fabric irritates the wound a little, he pushes the small pain to the back of his mind. 

He’s at Soren’s door when he comes out of it, perfectly dressed and put together but obviously not fully awake yet, his eyes half-lidded and his movements still a little sluggish. He gives Ike one of their small, private smiles, and Ike returns it, as well as a gentle kiss to the back of his hand, once he checks to make sure the corridor is clear of prying eyes. 

“Good morning,” he says sweetly.

Soren’s smile widens. “Good morning, Ike.”

They make small talk as they make their way to breakfast, close enough for their arms to brush as they make their way through the corridors. Soren assures Ike that he slept well, and then begins to express his lack of enthusiasm for the meetings he has to attend today. By extension, Ike also has to attend these meetings, so they both frown at each other and lament being roped into such tedious duties. Unfortunately for them, they both have jobs to do, so they just have to bear it, but Ike reminds Soren that at the very least, they’ll be doing it together. This brings a smile to his face, and Ike’s job there is done. 

Soren, Ike knows, has a particular and strange aversion to breakfast. He picks at his food in the usual manner, pushing it around more than eating it, and Ike subtly watches him do this as he tucks into his own meal. As is also typical, Soren is anxious. He’s had an edge to him ever since they arrived here, and though Ike can understand, he just wishes desperately that there was a way to put him at ease, even a little. It pains him to see Soren so lost- it’s something he’s never seen from the other man before, and it doesn’t suit him at all. Ike’s drive to ease Soren’s discomfort is persistent, and unfortunately he has yet to figure out how to soothe the man.

His cuts itch. He knows it’s a bad idea, but he reaches up and gently rubs at the wound with his fingers. It smarts, but it eases the itch, and he breathes an internal sigh of relief as he goes back to his food. Soren is watching him, but Soren is always watching him, so he pays no mind to this as he finishes his meal. He watches as Soren manages to eat a little more, and he’s satisfied, knowing he won’t get him to eat anything else. 

They exit the room, and it feels like seconds before Soren forcefully shoves him against a wall, around a corner. Ike’s brows raise, and he stops as he sees the narrow of Soren’s eyes, the hard set of his mouth.

“Why are you bleeding?” He asks, and his voice strikes a little like lightning. 

“What?” Ike asks dumbly.

“Your forehead, Ike. You rubbed at it, and it’s bleeding through the fabric. Did something happen?”

“Ah.” He sighs, running a hand over his hair. He had hoped to sort of keep it a secret, until it healed and scarred over. “Well, I suppose there’s no getting around it, then.”

“Absolutely not.” His tone leaves no room for argument, though Ike would never be so foolish as to try, when Soren is looking at him like that. 

He gives a wry grin, which makes Soren’s brows raise in turn, and sheepishly unties and removes his headband. He holds the fabric in his hand, and watches as Soren’s eyes go wide, his mouth forming a small, perfect o.

“You….” He swallows. “Ike, what… what is that?”

“I know you worry about your brand,” he says, his tone gentle. “It upsets you. I know it makes you feel… lesser. But really, it’s… it’s not so terrible. Especially not here. And I thought… well, I thought this might be a good way to show you that.”

“I…” He shakes his head, eyes still wide. “I don’t understand.”

“I also thought I could prove something to you with it,” he says. “I know you worry about me, Soren. And I know that look on your face, so don’t you interrupt me- but nothing could ever make me leave you, you know that? My loyalty to you has always been and always shall be unwavering.”

“You don’t have to prove anything to me, Ike.”

“And don’t I? I want to put you at ease. I want you to feel cared for, I want you to know that of everyone else in the world, I am always listening to you. So there you have it.”

“You’re a damned fool,” Soren hisses, the tense set of his face softening. 

“Perhaps I am,” Ike says with a light chuckle. “We both know you’re the smart one.”

His eyes are wet, and he half-heartedly punches Ike in the chest. “You’re a wretch,” he says.

Ike smiles and leans forward, kissing his forehead. “Perhaps I’m that, too.”

“Stop agreeing with me, you’re supposed to be mad that I’m calling you names.”

“I would be upset if I didn’t know you were just emotional and don’t know how to properly express yourself. Now, we could stay here in this corridor and trade words all day, but we have meetings to attend, and I do recall you mentioning that if we get out of them quickly enough, we should have some time to ourselves before supper. If you want that, I suggest we move, that way you can have all the time to yell at me you desire, _my lord_ ,” Ike says in his most charming tone.

Soren pulls away with him and levels him with a murderous glare, which only causes Ike to laugh. He lets out a heavy sigh, and Ike knows he has the victory.

“Fine,” he says. “But this conversation isn’t over.”

“I would expect nothing else of you.”

Ike laughs as Soren turns, his hair whipping, and begins to stalk down the corridor. He takes only a moment to catch up, and though Soren is putting on his little pouting show, Ike knows he isn’t truly angry. There was a part of him that feared it, but it’s obvious to him at least that Soren is just extremely emotionally impacted by the gesture and isn’t sure what to do about it. It’s a little cute, in its own way, though Ike does feel a little guilty for upsetting him. He supposes they’ll have plenty of time to discuss it later, however, as he follows the mage into the meeting room he’s disappeared through the door of. 

As expected, the day is long and tedious. They sit in on several meetings, all of them dreadfully boring and most of it going right over Ike’s head, though he does really try his best to pay attention in case Soren wants to discuss it later (which he will, as he always does). They take a short break for lunch, but Soren is unable to glare and posture at him, as several other members of the court join them and he’s expected to make nice with them. He sends Ike a few helpless looks, and he does his best to give him a comforting look of his own in return. 

It is a very long day, but Soren is nothing if not good at being punctual and practical, and as he predicted in the morning, they end with plenty of time to spare. He graciously exits their last meeting, Ike right on his heels, and with no preamble, they go to Soren’s chambers. It’s quiet in his rooms, still and warm. Ike likes it in here because it just feels like Soren. It’s always a comfort to be here, and Ike always likes spending time here. 

Of course, it’s a different matter when Soren is sending him one of his signature glares. 

He sits primly on his bed, all business, his shoulders straight and his hands resting in his lap, and Ike shoots him a slight, sheepish smile. 

“Explain it to me,” Soren says, and Ike is surprised that he doesn’t sound angry.

“I’m not sure what there is to explain,” he says, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I thought I made myself clear earlier. Unless you want me to change the words around, that’s all I can give you. I had hoped that would be enough. I should have known you wouldn’t have been satisfied.” He gives a little grin at the end of his statement, as he takes a seat in one of the chairs in Soren’s room. 

He sighs, and tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. “Apparently it was too much to ask for you to be anything other than terribly straightforward.”

“Unfortunately, I’m a very simple man.”

Soren’s face softens. “Yes, that you are. I wouldn’t really have it any other way, despite what you might think.”

“Is that so?”

Ike gets up from his chair, which he now thinks was a silly place to be anyway, and kneels in front of Soren. He takes his hands, and smiles up at him, before placing Soren’s hands back in his lap and untying his headband. He lets the cloth fall to the floor.

“May I…” Soren’s voice is light.

“Of course.”

He reaches out and places his fingers very, very gently to the wound on Ike’s forehead. There’s a slight, sharp intake of breath as his fingers brush it, like he’s in disbelief. 

“I just… you really did this. For me.”

“Well, truthfully, there isn’t really anything I _wouldn’t_ do for you.”

Soren sighs. “I can’t be angry with you when you talk like that. I hate this.”

Ike grins. “I don’t think you actually hate this,” he says teasingly.

“You hush. You’re too observational for your own good.”

“Only when it comes to you, I’m afraid. I’m not quite so clever in other senses.”

Soren’s grin is small, but genuine, and that makes Ike smile in turn. He takes Soren’s hands within his own again and presses kisses to the soft skin on the backs of them. Soren’s face is soft. Ike’s forehead stings, the cuts throbbing just a touch. The pain, in its own way, is pleasant, like when you poke a bruise. 

“I didn’t truly upset you, did I?”

Soren sighs. “It would be easier, perhaps, if you did. But…. this is actually a very thoughtful gesture, even if it is a little reckless. You never have been conventional.”

“Not a conventional bone in my body, I’m afraid.”

Ike kisses his hands again, and Soren softens a little more.

“Part of me is a little angry that you would hurt yourself,” he says softly. “But the rest of me… isn’t quite sure how to express just how much this means. I’m no good at these sorts of speeches, so I’ll spare us both the agony of that but… thank you, Ike. For thinking of me in ways I never anticipated.”

“That’s what I’m here for, to support you even when you don’t know you need it.”

Soren’s eyes drift closed. “I’m glad you followed me here, Ike.”

He smiles. “As am I.”

**Author's Note:**

> As always, I encourage commentary and feedback! You can also find me on twitter under @sterling_stars, where you can watch me agonize over my writing in real time, yeehaw


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